My first secret life fanfiction.

Please tell me if it sucks, and genuine, horrible, want to burn my eyes kind of awful, and not just a complaining about the pairing :D

Disclaimer: I own no characters, places, or anything able to be recognized by the show.

Ashley's Point of View

"Ashley!" I heard Dad call me from the kitchen.

"Yes?" I asked, going into the kitchen, though I knew what this was about.

"Ricky is moving some of his things into Amy's room." Dad said.

Here it comes...

"We talked about this before. While Ricky is here I want the two of you to stay out of each other's way." Dad said.

"Dad, I know. You have told me this before," I said in a tired tone, "Would you like me to start recording all your warnings about boys and replay them when I get lonely too?"

"Do I have to buy the recorder?" Dad asked, actually considering it.

I rolled my eyes and said, "I was joking."

"I wasn't. That's a good idea. I'll talk to Griffin about it when he comes over tonight." Dad said.

"Griffin's coming over tonight?" I asked.

"He called earlier and we talked. He's coming over at six, the two of you can have a movies night Ricky's first night here and I'm thinking you could sleep over at Griffin's place a few times too. I like those parents of his." Dad said.

It's a sad, sad world when my dad and my gay best friend start conspiring so that I don't get the chance to talk to Ricky who is the father of my nephew, someone I possibly have a thing for, and a sort of manwhore.

"So you like his parents's parenting style and hope that they can turn me away from men?" I asked, amused.

"No, I like them because they breed men that will never try to have sex with you." Dad said grinning.

"Yeah, yeah, walk in the gay pride parade." I said.

"Oh we will." Dad said, and if possible, he grinned wider.

I rolled my eyes again, but gave him a laugh.

"Do you want pancakes?" Dad asked after a moment.

"Dad, it's four in the afternoon." I said. I didn't mention how he couldn't make decent pancakes to save his life.

"It's never too late for pancakes." Dad said while he looked through the cupboards for pancake mix.

"You know they have frozen pancakes at the store? That take very little time to make?" I asked.

"They don't taste the same." Dad said.

"True, they taste better." I said.

"They do not."

"They do." I said. At least they did the way he made them. He always made an attempt to make them into funny shapes while in the pan and they burnt, then he would agree with me that he couldn't make pancakes and we would go out and buy some from a McDonald's restaurant or in frozen packages at the grocery store, depending on the time of day, and the following day he would completely forget that a pancake incident had ever occurred and insist that he knew how to make pancakes. It was a tradition that we followed to a tee.

"They do not." Dad insisted.

"What are the two of you arguing about?" Mom asked in a surprised tone as she entered the room balancing Robbie on her hip.

"Dad's ability to make pancakes." I said.

Understanding lit up her eyes.

"Anne, tell her I can make pancakes." Dad said.

"I would, but you can't make pancakes." Mom said close to laughter.

"When have I ever not made some good pancakes?" Dad asked.

"The great pancake disaster of '03." Mom said automatically.

I started laughing. I was about eight or nine at the time and it was dad's second or third time making pancakes and Amy, Mom, and myself had gone over to the neighbour's house for a few minutes because she wanted to see us in the dresses she had bought us, she was an old woman and we reminded her so much of her darling grandchildren that mom couldn't say no, and when we came back there was a huge fire and Dad had thrown his shirt on the floor because it had caught fire...needless to say the fire department was called and my dress didn't make it out alive...whether or not that was my intent I never told...

"Those weren't pancakes!" Dad defended.

"They were pancakes!" Mom and I argued. Robbie just looked at us all funny, like we were odd. Yeah, kiddo, we have bladder control, how do you like that?

"They were not pancakes. I think that was the time I tried to make pizza." Dad said as he finally found all the ingredients to make pancakes and was putting them into the bowl. Mom and I looked at each other and back to the bowl nervously. Between the two of us she had the best shot at taking it and running away with it if necessary, but he would have a head start because she would have to take the time to pass Robbie to me. Robbie and I would then have to run to my room so I could get my camera and take pictures of her chasing him up the street, perhaps even with a spatula.

"No, the time you tried to make pizza was when the pepperoni stick got stuck up Amy's nose because you had sliced it vertically, remember?" Mom said.

Did they even watch us?

"Amy got a pepperoni stick stuck up her nose before?" I asked.

"Yeah, it took us a while to get it out, though that could have been because Amy wouldn't stop crying." Dad said.

"Not much has changed." I said, picking a blueberry from the pile he had out, he was putting those in too.

"I'll be back. Don't let him turn on the stove." Mom said in a tone vaguely like mission impossible, so quiet only I could hear.

I nodded and Mom was back shortly later without Robbie. The field was evened, or unevened, depending on how you look at it. Mom and I were silent as Dad mixed the ingredients in, the only sound that could be heard were the sounds of Robbie and John and the sound of Ricky moving something heavy.

"Just give me the batter and no one gets hurt George." Mom said, slowly moving towards him from the right side.

I swear, sometimes our family interactions were something from a clown college textbook.

Mom indicated with her left hand that was lowered by her legs that I ambush him from the other side.

I got up and slowly used the other side. I love my dad, but I also love this kitchen and I didn't want to know the fire department by name like I knew all the local police officer's names. That is what happens when 911 gets dialed too often, you begin to know the people that pick up.

"Dad, please. Put down the batter." I said in a monotone voice.

"Please George." Mom said.

Dad held the bowl closer to himself, carefully putting in a few more blueberries.

"Just let me try pl—" Dad said, but was cut off when he moved his foot, slipped on some water, and dropped the bowl, which broke, and the batter had an explosive reaction, it fireworked off at us like it was heat seeking missles. As if that wasn't bad enough, Dad slipped for a second time, and then he tried to grab me and we went down, taking down Mom as well when we knocked into her.

Ricky came in, "Hey, is everyone okay? I thought I heard a—"

Ricky stopped when he slipped as well and fell right on top of me, using his arms to support himself as soon as he could.

"George! This is why you do not make pancakes!" Mom shouted.

I rolled my eyes and looked up at Ricky who was grinning that stupid half smile of his. Ricky's body was against mine, not entirely on top of me because his hands were on the floor on either side of my head, and his lips weren't too far away either, and I could tell he was thinking it because his eyes flicked to them a couple times. The thought that my parents were here though was a sobering fact though.

"Can you get off me now?" I asked after I could feel my dad staring at me. Truth was, I wasn't completely uncomfortable.

"Yeah." Ricky said as he pushed himself off his arms and caught up. Ricky reached out with a hand and helped me up.

Mom was already up and Dad was just getting himself up now that Ricky was off me.

"So what happened?" Ricky asked.

"We were trying to prevent a pancake disaster." Mom said.

"This is your prevention plan?" Ricky asked.

"Oddly enough, the most successful." I said.

"Really?" Ricky asked.

"Really." I said.

"Yeah, no ambulance or fire department needs to be called. A success." Mom said.

Mom was enthusiastic, she held her hand up for a high five. I figured, just this once, I can deal with a little hyperness. I high fived her.

"I'm telling you, the two of you didn't need to go to such an extreme." Dad said as he carefully walked away, probably to shower.

"We did." Mom said, following him.

I laughed and took inventory of myself. My hair had splats of the pancake batter in it, my clothes were covered in it, and I was sure that there was a blueberry in my bra, but I wasn't going to mention that to Ricky.

Ricky was laughing while looking at me.

"What?" I asked.

I swear if he was laughing at the way I looked, he shouldn't be. The tips of his hair were tinted with batter, his socks were dragging down because they had been drenched in batter and his black jeans looked like they had started out the colour of the batter, his hands were gloved in it, and his cheek also had some batter on it, he was in no position to laugh at me.

"You look cute." Ricky said.

I internally groaned, no girl wanted to ever be deemed 'cute', especially if that girl was covered in pancake batter.

"So this is a good look on me then?" I asked jokingly.

"Of course, you should wear it more often. You'll definitely turn some heads." Ricky said smiling. Enough with that smile of his already!

"I'll think about it." I said.

The two of us moved at the same time and with the slippage of the batter and out inability to not bang into each other we fell...again. This time I was on top of him, straddling him actually.

I sighed and said, "I think this is like quicksand. Whenever we try to get out we get pulled back in."

"It's alright with me. I'm comfortable under here." Ricky said grinning. It was then that I remembered our position.

"Okay, getting up now." I said, attempting to get up.

"It's alright with me. Take your time. I rather like this position." Ricky said.

"I'm sure you do." I said, rolling my eyes for at least the third time that day.

"Yeah, I do."

I blushed involuntarily and tried to move my feet.

"What? Are you uncomfortable?" Ricky asked smiling.

I glared at him and pushed off of him and walked down the hall, and as I was walking I shouted, "Last one in the kitchen has to clean up! My rules!"

I could feel his eyes watching me but I went inside my room, collected my things, and waited until my parents were done with their showers.